Convergence
by xfphile
Summary: *That* is the past. *This* is the future. Your present — your **life** — is what you make of all the moments in between.


A/N: Okay, this is a Yuletide treat for Niki (hi!). It takes place quite literally immediately after the credits roll on 'The Blood of Juana the Mad' (S02E08), so Jack and Phryne have talked and agreed to a waltzing partnership. Subsequent episodes got me to wonder just how (and why) Jack's change of heart came to be, and behold. FIC! was born.

Now, the important part: in my world, the books don't exist. I know NOTHING about the books, so you will see nothing about them or their established canon in my stories. I'm basing my head-canon off what little the show gives us, my ability to read between carefully spoken lines, and my penchant for dramatic license.

As ever, concrit is love.

* * *

_**CONVERGENCE**_

"Are you aware that you're an idiot?"

Jack Robinson tripped over nothing and cursed viciously as he scraped his hand on the rough siding of Phryne Fisher's home, twisting at an awkward angle to demand why Doctor Elizabeth MacMillan was accosting him. Her expression made him rethink that demand. He had the sudden, unnerving sensation of being sliced open with a scalpel and examined . . . and told not to bother donating his body to science.

"That was a serious question, by the way," she continued before he could even think to say anything. "Do you realise that you're a fool?"

Jack tried to be affronted, but given that the good doctor was Miss Fisher's best friend, and as such, perfectly aware of the situation he had created, gave it up as a lost cause. He knew full well what she was referring to and so, resigned, he waited for her to say her piece. When he gave no response save an arched eyebrow and a bland expression, her eyes narrowed for a few seconds before she sighed and looked away, shaking her head.

"God, you don't, do you?" she muttered to no one, pacing a few steps away from the house.

Puzzled (and still wary), Jack studied her, growing more and more uneasy at the expressions flitting across her face so quickly that nothing settled – but not one of them was good. He was starting to wonder if he would need to physically step in front of her to halt the relentless pacing when she abruptly stopped, pivoted back to face him, and nailed him with a glare that made him feel bizarrely like a butterfly pinned to a display board.

"Walk with me, Inspector," she . . . well, ordered him. Nonplussed, Jack blinked at her, but when her expression grew thunderous, he chose the better part of valour and stepped to her side. Without another word, she stalked off, fully expecting him to keep up; luckily, spending so much time chasing Phryne had kept him in shape, so he easily met her pace.

After perhaps three minutes of stony silence, the doctor finally spoke.

"How much has she told you about her life before her family inherited, or even before she came back to Australia?"

It was such an odd question that Jack actually paused and blinked at her rapidly retreating back before having to jog to catch up with her.

"I . . . a bit," he finally said carefully, wondering at the apparent non-sequitur. "I know about Janey, of course, and that she was an artist's model, and . . ."

Jack trailed off at the sudden realization that he didn't actually know that much about Phryne's life prior to her return to Australia and was surprised to discover that he was hurt. He'd thought them closer than that. But at his side, Dr MacMillan was nodding sagely, her expression a complicated mixture of triumph, sadness, and resignation.

"That's what I was afraid of," she said quietly, her fierce, protective fire suddenly gone. She stopped walking and smirked when it took him a few steps to register the unexpected change (and what was it about the women of Phryne's 'family' – starting with the woman herself – that made them take such joy in disconcerting him?). As he came back to her, Jack found himself irrationally concerned when her smirk acquired a bitter twist and she gave a harsh scoff of laughter before she met his eyes and jerked her head. Only then did their surroundings register and he eyed them dubiously before obediently following her into a small, dim alley.

"All right," she started, giving him a serious look as she pivoted to face him. "I'm going to explain a few things to you, because she won't now and you're her choice – _God help us –_ but if you so much as **think** about any of this in her presence, I'll eviscerate you. However," she continued, her expression darkening further, "I'm only giving you _some_ of her history, because you damn well need to ask if you want to know about what shaped her, good and bad. That being said, you've made a serious error in judgment that you can't fix – or at least understand – without a frame of reference."

Stunned silent by surprise, resentment ("God help us"?), a little fear, and the beginnings of guilt (he shouldn't be hearing this, but he couldn't deny a desperate desire to _know_. And to be truthful, he didn't think the good doctor would let him leave.), Jack nodded but said nothing, as it was patently obvious that his opinion was neither needed nor wanted. She glared at him for a few more minutes, just to prove the point, before leaning back against the wall opposite him and pinning the siding beside his head with a hard look.

"So, the first thing you need to understand is that Phryne's father is a cold, abusive bastard. He made her life miserable, and after Janey disappeared, I swear it got worse by the hour."

Having had nothing but vague suspicions along those lines, Jack felt like he'd been sucker-punched. And angry. He wouldn't deny that there were plenty of times he wanted to shake some sense – or at least caution – into Phryne's head, but the thought of actually causing her harm made him ill. His eyes wide with the same shocked anger coursing through him, Jack demanded, "Did he hit her?"

"A few times," the doctor confirmed, remembered fury sparking in her own eyes. "But mostly he just yelled, locked her away, told her – and Janey, too – that she was weak, useless, not even good as a wife because she couldn't possibly be worth anything to a husband."

He sucked in a quick, sharp breath through his nostrils, because he didn't trust himself enough to speak.

She gave him an acknowledging nod and added, "And from what little Phryne's let slip, Howard was manipulative, too. It's one of the reasons she fell so easily into that bastard Dubois' trap. But I'm getting ahead of myself."

Oh, dear God. There was more? _Worse?_

He wasn't entirely sure he could stomach more, if the forthcoming revelations were anything like this. But Jack had come to a – not unpleasant, exactly, but not entirely welcome – realization during the past fortnight: Phryne Fisher had become one of his weak spots. She fascinated him and drew him like few others, and he had a burning desire to know more (_everything_) about her: what made her tick, what scared her, what she loved, why she had fashioned herself into a champion of underdogs, so he leaned back against the side of the house and waited patiently for the doctor to continue, firmly ignoring the guilt whispering that he should put a stop to this. He very carefully didn't notice the shrewd look she was giving him.

"So, Phryne grows up with an abusive, manipulative father, a weak, unfortunately spineless mother, and a sister whose disappearance not only left her as the main target in the house, but also took away the one person on her side. After the Fishers inherited the title, it actually got worse – and no," she said in response to his expression. "I wouldn't have thought so, either. But Phryne . . . it got so bad that she willingly went to a private finishing school just to escape. She hated it, but it got her away from them and let her learn to her heart's content – well, within the confines of decorum, elocution, and general society frippery. Of course, being Phryne, she did manage to find a way to get access to the 'male' subjects as well, but her education there wasn't nearly as thorough."

Dr MacMillan paused and sighed, her shoulders slumping a bit.

"But even that brought no real peace, because her classmates had all been born to the peerage and there was no frame of reference either side could grasp. As far as I know, I was the only exception to that. And I'm not telling you that story," she told him with a touch of wry humour. "Entertaining as it is, it's nothing you need to know."

Well, he could understand that. He might die of curiosity, but he wouldn't ask.

"Literally the day after she completed her second-to-last year, Phryne finally had enough and left. She just upped stakes and took off, and joined an ambulance unit tied to the French army. So there she was, not quite seventeen, chasing wounded men all over the continent. And that's where she met Kenneth."

And he _knew_ it was wrong, knew that he was the biggest hypocrite in Australia, but Jack hated the man immediately, because he'd hurt Phryne.

Pot, meet kettle.

Apparently reading his mind, the doctor smirked again (was it her default expression, Jack wondered, or was he special?) and elaborated. "It's not what you're thinking, Inspector, though I give you credit for your protective instincts."

This did not make Jack feel better.

"But Kenny was truly a sweetheart. He was incapable of hurting someone's feelings, let alone committing physical violence. From what Phryne's told me, he had to consciously exert effort to raise his voice."

Jack's eyebrows escaped his control and climbed his forehead. Phryne Fisher with a quiet, unassuming man? It boggled the mind.

The doctor nodded. "I know," she said. "But you have to remember: the Phryne you know was hardly a gleam in her eye then, even taking in account her subtle rebellions against her father – hell, her entire life, when you get down to it – and the hijinks she delighted in getting herself in; there was always someone to rein her in, you could say. And while she tried to ignore any consequences, they still existed – and they left their marks. So the woman you know? She was born in Collingwood, but she didn't really come to life until the trenches. God, now that I've said it out loud, it sounds like the plot of a penny-dreadful," she muttered to herself, not seeing the faint grin that Jack was unable to suppress in spite of the situation. Thankfully, she didn't appear to notice and went on in a somber voice. "So, the war was well on, she was new to her unit, and Kenny was one of the other drivers in her group."

"Driver?" Jack interrupted in surprise. Men had rarely been permitted to be on the medical side of things because they were needed so badly in combat, and even then they were in the hospitals, not roaming a countryside riddled with gunfire, bullets, and treachery.

"Mmm," she confirmed. "He'd been shot in the leg and the injury was so bad he couldn't go back to the trenches, but rather than being invalided home, he asked to be transferred to the medical unit who saved his life, and I honestly think he got it because it was the easiest solution; after all, what's a wounded soldier worth?" she added with no small amount of disgust.

"Ah," was Jack's only reply; it figured that Phryne would find the one man out of a thousand who would willingly shift from one side of brutal, bloody wounds to the other instead of taking the chance to go home, heal, and try to forget. His regard for Phryne Fisher rose yet another notch (and what did it say about him, Jack mused, that he admired nearly everything about the maddening, captivating woman even after he'd done his best to sever all ties with her?), but with it came a spike of pain. Would Rosie have stayed if he'd been a medic or even a regular soldier, instead of letting Army Intelligence destroy his soul?

It never occurred to him to wonder about Phryne.

Jack was so deep in thought, he nearly started in surprise when she continued. "In another rarity, he was actually permanently assigned to the unit because of his injury, and Francine told me that he and Phryne bonded quite literally at their introduction. Within about a month, they were engaged and planning a wedding for the day after the hostilities were officially over, whenever that might be."

And he was back to feeling sucker-punched. Apparently, his expression reflected this, because Dr MacMillan gave him a hard look that also managed to convey sympathy. It was unnerving.

When she spoke again, the sympathy had vanished. "So there Phryne was, happy for one of the first times in her life, engaged to the man she loved, and doing a job she could have been born for. But less than a year after they met, Kenny got Scarlet Fever. And it was a war; there wasn't any going home. Especially not for a medic; there were too few of them to begin with." She paused here, looking pensive. It was a few minutes before she continued, her voice quiet and filled with pain. "Phryne tried, with the others in their unit, but they just . . . there wasn't anything they could _do,_ because there was no cure. And so Phryne had to watch Kenny die, in the crowded, public venue of the hospital – and even that was between ambulance runs, though the others gave her as much time with him as they could. At the end, she couldn't even touch him, in case she caught it. Phryne wouldn't have cared, but the others in her unit . . . they probably saved her life."

Jack was silent for a long, long time after she finished speaking. "My God," he finally breathed, closing his eyes against his own memories of blood, pain, and death. "How do you know this?" he demanded as he met her eyes. "I can't imagine she talked about it."

"No," the doctor agreed. "Not as such. But I got letters at the beginning, when she joined the unit and met Kenny, and I knew a couple of the others in their division. And she's told me a little of it, enough that I can piece together – well, more or less – what happened."

Jack nodded as he absorbed this. "Were you able to help her?" he eventually asked.

"In some ways," she replied, remembered sorrow darkening her voice. "But between her father and Janey and – and watching Kenny die like that . . . she was well-primed for the 'I can take care of myself' persona that we have today. And if you think she's reckless now, well . . . believe me when I tell you, Inspector, it's a hell of a lot better than the way she was after Kenny."

Jack swallowed. Phryne's careless disregard for her own life had been the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back, but with this history . . . it looked as though the good doctor's assessment of him as an idiot wasn't completely inaccurate after all. Why had he never _asked?_ No, that wasn't fair. He knew why. She was so vibrant and full of life that it had honestly never occurred to him that she had experienced that kind of trauma. As a police officer, he was well-aware of the fact that making that sort of assumption could easily prove deadly, and yet he'd done it anyway. 'Fool' wasn't too far off the mark, either, it seemed.

Unaware of his inner monologue, Dr MacMillan went on, capturing his total attention with her next words. "So her lover is dead and Phryne's devastated, and not handling it well at all. But the war ended before she completely self-destructed, the unit was in Paris when it was disbanded, and not long after that, she met the Sarcelles and was – well, I won't say 'happy,' but she was content. She was remembering how to live, instead of just surviving. Things were getting better, she was starting to rebuild herself —"

"And then she met Dubois," Jack interjected, his voice hard with remembered rage.

"And then she met Dubois," Dr MacMillan agreed with a sigh. "And it was all right at first – he was intense, but protective and caring and he was _there_. And Phryne, despite how she grew up and even surviving the war, was still – naïve, I guess you'd say – about life and relationships. Her first real inkling that there was a problem came when he stormed into a session and told her she wasn't allowed to model anymore. Even though it's how they met," she spat out, clearly experiencing her own rage at the bastard. "Her second, and final, clue came fifteen minutes later, when he told her she belonged to him and only him, and then backhanded her."

Jack didn't realize he'd punched the wall until his hand began to hurt. Savage satisfaction that the man was dead competed with his fierce desire to bring Dubois back to life and set him on fire while he was still conscious and aware. And it wasn't just because they were talking about Phryne. Jack had a bone-deep desire to inflict damage on people who hurt women or children. It was one of the few things that could make him resent being an officer of the law.

"Yes, that's made it better," the doctor said with droll understanding as she inspected the sore area with a shockingly gentle touch. "But you didn't break anything, so put some ice on it when you get home."

He nodded wordlessly and leaned back against the wall, absently cradling his injured hand and desperately hoping she was done.

Hope wasn't always a kind emotion.

"So you can understand why Phryne is so wary of romantic attachments now, I assume," her closest friend stated. It wasn't a question, but Jack still gave a single nod in reply.

"Between her father, Kenny, and _him,"_ she spat the last, "she learned just how little control over her life she had. Like the rest of us, really, only she'd had so many bad experiences in such a short time, it was overwhelming. But the _p__ièce ____de résistance_, I think, was Margot Weston."

And Jack did not want to know, he really didn't, but he . . . just because Phryne terrified him with her cavalier approach to life didn't mean that he loved her any less. Dr MacMillan might not realize (or be willing to admit) that this separation was killing him by degrees, too, but it was the unvarnished truth. That was why he had put up so little true resistance to Phryne's involvement with this case; he had discovered that she was too deeply entrenched in his life to just cut out . . . and to be perfectly honest, he didn't want to. He'd been hoping that Phryne would understand his point of view and maybe even try to rein in some of her more suicidal impulses.

This new knowledge put paid to that. And Jack Robinson was forced to admit that his earlier thoughts were correct: he was an idiot. And also, a fool. Yes, Phryne could have opened up more, but he could have – _should_ have – asked. Well, at least now he knew that they were both bad communicators. If nothing else, it would (hopefully) reduce the number of misunderstandings they suffered from.

Seemingly oblivious to his thoughts (though Jack was _not_ taking that for granted), the doctor carried on.

"Margot was a woman Phryne met in Paris, not long before she met Dubois," she began, her voice suddenly going emotionless and making Jack tense. "And she was everything Phryne wanted to be: beautiful, glamorous, sophisticated, influential . . . and married to the perfect man." Despite her efforts, bitterness crept into her voice, and Jack tensed even more. "Anthony was beautiful, sophisticated, influential, and he adored Margot. If she'd wanted a particular star from the sky, he'd have gotten it for her."

There was a long moment of silence, broken only by the doctor's deep sigh.

"She and Phryne were kindred spirits in a way, so it didn't take long for them to become good friends. And Anthony liked her. It was the perfect friendship, especially once she met Dubois. Two beautiful couples, taking Paris by storm. And then Anthony tried to – well, seduce is too kind a word," she said quietly. Jack saw red.

"He tried to force her?" he demanded, his hands involuntarily clenching into fists. Was he going to have to kill _every_ man in Phryne's past?

"No," she replied quickly, but without hesitation. "No, he just – he wanted her and didn't see any reason why he couldn't have her. Phryne was horrified, naturally, and turned him away. But she couldn't bring herself to tell Margot and destroy her life, so she just made sure she was never alone with Anthony."

"More letters?" Jack asked quietly, needing a respite and also wanting desperately to know how the doctor had helped Phryne. Maybe it was knowledge that he could use in the future and avoid the hell that they were all currently inhabiting.

"Hmm? Oh, no," she replied, shaking her head. "No, this was a bottle of very good whiskey and the prudent application of some very high-quality hash."

Far from being disapproving, Jack found himself suddenly wishing for the presence of either (or both) just now. Anything to take the edge off of this – this _torture_. He'd always known Phryne was strong, but he'd had no clue about the true depths of that strength . . . and less than nothing about what had helped forge it. And this wasn't even the full story. God. Could he _**be**_ a bigger fool?

"So they limped along like that for a while, Phryne avoiding Anthony like the plague, distraught at keeping that secret from Margot, and Dubois starting to show his true colours, though she didn't recognize it at the time. But then Margot caught her husband with their butler's adolescent daughter."

Jack sucked in a sharp breath between his teeth. A trip to Paris was suddenly a very real possibility.

"Margot was devastated, of course, and went to Phryne. And once the crying and the shouting was over, Phryne told her about Anthony's advances. Dunno that I would have," she mused, absently kicking the wall behind her. "But Phryne's always been able to read women. It's downright uncanny, sometimes."

Jack couldn't disagree with this.

"And Margot – who wasn't a stupid woman, evidence to the contrary – decided then and there to get a divorce. She had too much self-respect, Phryne said, to put up with a philanderer. And even if she had been inclined to put up with him straying, she sure as hell wasn't living with a man who liked children."

Would that every woman thought that way. He had lost count of the number of women who stayed because they couldn't bear to be alone, and ended up dead. Or worse.

"Phryne was completely supportive and offered to help in any way she could. But they ran into an unpleasant truth: obtaining a divorce was nigh on impossible, which is surprising when you consider the lax view that was taken with so many other things. Margot might have been able to sue for adultery, but she had no proof beyond what little she'd seen, or so she told Phryne – and Phryne had no proof of his advances toward her, either. So when Anthony refused to agree to a divorce, Margot literally had no recourse. Especially once he cut her off from the money and turned their friends against her. In less than two months, she was a pariah, ostracized from society, her family . . . Anthony destroyed her. And when he taken everything he could away from her, _he_ obtained a divorce – based on 'abandonment,' because Margot was sharing Phryne's rooms by then. Left her penniless, homeless, and utterly alone. Phryne was the only person who stayed by her, but then Dubois – did what he did, and Phryne had to concentrate on getting away from him, which necessitated a total lodgings move, among other things. By the time she was free and safe, it was too late. Margot had been forcibly committed. Madness resulting from her 'sinful, promiscuous lifestyle.'

"And Anthony walked away with his reputation mostly intact and his name virtually unsullied."

When she finished speaking, the bitter hatred something Jack understood only too well, the only sound was the wind howling over their heads. It sounded like a lament, and Jack closed his eyes as it cried his agony to the world. He didn't pity Phryne – God, how could he? She'd survived things that would have broken an entire battalion of battle-seasoned soldiers. But he ached down to his soul that she'd had to go through it alone, without a protector, or even a champion. And when she'd finally found one (kicking and screaming, true, but a champion nonetheless), what had he done? He'd gotten upset because the woman he loved acted the way she'd learned through vicious, brutal experience was safe for her and walked away to protect himself.

"Oh, no," the doctor snapped, jarring him back to the present. "You don't get to feel sorry for yourself, Inspector."

"I —" he began in startled protest, only to be viciously cut off.

"No. While I will grant that she likely wouldn't have told you anything, you still should have asked," MacMillan said harshly, her glare trapping him against the wall. "Since you've made a right proper cockup of it now, you'll just have to see it through. If you go back and say 'I'm sorry, love, I changed my mind,' she'll know something's up. And I'll do a lot for Phryne Fisher, but I've no desire to be shot because I told the idiot she's fallen in love with some of the truth she should have."

There was another long silence, with Jack doing his damnedest to keep his mouth shut. He deserved every ounce of the censure he was getting, but that didn't mean he liked it . . . not that he was fool enough to say so. Being eviscerated was still a possibility.

Wait.

"Fallen in love with?" he repeated incredulously, gaping at the doctor and earning himself an eyeroll so hard it had to hurt.

"Why else would she be so upset?" Dr MacMillan demanded irritably, throwing her hands in the air. "Are all of you this stupid? She learned to be alone, to thrive on it, even, and to never form romantic attachments because they're dangerous. And then she met you. You were handsome, and charming, and understood her, and supported her even when you didn't agree with her, and made her think she was safe."

The contempt in the doctor's voice made Jack flinch. He hadn't known, but that was hollow consolation. He'd still behaved abominably. Now he had to live with the consequences. They all did.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, cutting her off before she could speak again. "I didn't know, but you're right: it's no excuse."

This time the pause was his, as he considered his next words.

"But you need to understand, Doctor, that Phryne isn't the only one in this – partnership," he began. He'd almost said 'relationship,' but it was much too soon for that. "And her refusal to even acknowledge my concern . . . can you imagine how I felt," he demanded suddenly, taking a slightly childish pleasure in seeing her thrown off-guard, "when I thought she'd died in that accident?"

There was a long moment of silence.

"I can guess," was the low response, which unexpectedly lacked any vitriol.

"Can you?" he asked rhetorically, though with a bitter edge to his voice. "Then can you also imagine, with everything I was feeling, that surprise didn't even make the list?"

Looking chastened, the doctor shook her head.

"No," she murmured. "I can't say I would've been surprised, either."

There was another long pause, this one heavy with the things still left unsaid.

"Well, then," Jack started when he could no longer take the tension, suddenly feeling utterly exhausted. "What now?"

She snorted. "Why, that depends on you, Inspector."

"I – what do you mean?" he asked in bewilderment, earning himself another eyeroll.

"Well, she isn't going to do anything herself," she snapped crossly, with another irritable gesture. "You've well and truly burned that bridge. No, you're going to have to do this the hard way: grovel and work to earn her trust back.

"And yes, Phryne has some culpability, too," she added before Jack could protest. "But you have to prove yourself worthy of that confidence, Inspector. I know you aren't going to just magically be alright with everything she is, and that's fine. She's my oldest friend, but I'm not blind to her faults. So it's going to have to be a give and take. You have the harder task," she acknowledged, and Jack was startled to see that she was regarding him with sympathy (not a lot, mind). "She can't know that you know, and you can't forget. It's going to be a tough road to walk, but if you love her like I think you do, you'll come up with something."

Astonished, Jack stared at her. When had she come to his side?

"Why are you helping me?" he finally asked, genuinely unable to come up with a reason.

"That's a good question," she shot back. "And one I asked myself many times before tonight. The answer, Inspector, is that she was happy with you. And as difficult as it is to believe, she was starting to accommodate you, rely on you. She was actually beginning to take you into consideration before she did something reckless."

His incredulous look earned him a small smile.

"I know you didn't see it," she conceded. "But I did. And I wholeheartedly approved. You're good for her, Inspector, even if you are an ass."

Stung, Jack opened his mouth to retort, but didn't get the chance.

"And if you don't fix this, you should remember that I am a doctor. So if you hurt her again, I _will_ let you live."

She gave him a truly frightening smile, looked at her pocket watch, and said, "Well, I have to go. I have an early surgery. Urgent bowel operation. Have a good night, Inspector."

With that parting shot, she was gone. Jack watched her go before sinking to the ground and staring blindly at the far wall, thinking back over everything he had learned tonight. He might be an idiot, but he also endeavored to avoid repeating a mistake. He couldn't read Phryne's mind, any more than she could read his. And it would take some time before he was ready to ask his questions – or prepared to hear her answers. But he didn't like being at odds with her, and he wasn't all that fond of working cases without her (and wasn't _that_ a complete turnaround?), so maybe he should start there. It wouldn't be easy, but as Phryne herself had once told him, nothing worthwhile is easy. And Phryne Fisher was definitely worthwhile.

With a grunt, he got to his feet and headed back to his car. No decisions had been made tonight, except the one to try. But every journey had to start somewhere, so Jack Robinson took a deep breath and took the first step on the path that, God willing, would lead to Phryne, and then to _their_ path, _their_ future.

And for perhaps the first time in his life, Jack didn't care where that path led . . . so long as he walked it with her.

~~~~  
_  
finis_


End file.
